Death at the Member Guest

by James Y. Bartlett

  Herb Incavaglia came into the office, his face flushed. He went and stood next to Bennie. Leta looked back at Rene. “Thanks, Rene,” she said in a strong, firm voice. “But I wanna know which one of your slimeballs killed him.”

  Herb came off the wall, twisting his hands. “Dammit,” he said. “You can’t talk like that in here!”

  Lemere held up his hand. “I’m sure Mrs. Papageorge is just overcome with grief,” he said calmly. “No offense taken.”

  “Oh, can the polite bullshit, Rene,” Leta snapped. “You know who snuffed Vitus and I’m not leaving here until you tell me.”

  Lemere’s face reddened and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Bennie came to attention against the wall.

  “In fact, lady, I do not know who killed the son-of-a-bitch,” Lemere growled. “I just know that it has royally screwed up a pretty good piece of my business. That’s why Herb is here.”

  The bell from the loading dock rang again, startling us all.

  “And that’ll be Fred,” Rene said, glancing at his watch. He motioned with his head and Bennie went out to open the door.

  Herb began having another hissy fit. “Rene,” he said, “For Christ sakes. These guys are from the newspapers. Did you go off the record?”

  Rene and I both burst out laughing. We exchanged a look and shook our heads.

  “Off the record?” Rene said, chuckling to himself. “I think these gentlemen know that if anything they see or hear gets printed, they themselves will be taken off the record. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hacker?”

  “That’s kinda what I assumed,” I said, smiling at him. “Still,” I added, “The story of Vitus Papageorge’s murder leads to his, shall we say, unconventional financing techniques for various construction projects at the Shuttlecock Club, which in turn leads, from what we understand, to you. So keeping this story under wraps may prove difficult.”

  “Then you are dead men,” Rene said.

  There’s not much one can say in rejoinder to that definitive sentence. It hung chillingly in the air for a moment.

  Bennie came back into the office, followed by Fred Adamek. He was wearing blue jeans and an old sweatshirt, beat-up sneakers and a Red Sox baseball cap. He stopped short when he saw the three of us sitting on Rene’s sofa.

  “W-what is this?” he stammered, looking from us to Rene.

  “Shut up, Fred and go stand over there,” Rene said, motioning to the wall next to Herb. Bennie had brought a metal folding chair in from the hall and he set it up next to the door and sat down in it. His face was still impassive.

  “How’s Rita?” Rene asked Fred.

  He took off his baseball cap and wiped his forehead. “She’s OK today,” he said. “The air is drier and she can breathe a little better. Still a struggle, but today was one of the good days.”

  “That’s good,” Rene said, nodding. He looked at us. “Rita has the emphysema,” he said “Last coupla years, she’s been on the oxygen. Summer is a bitch, right Fred?”

  Fred nodded, looking nervously at Jack, Leta and me.

  “So,” Rene said, after taking another sip of his Coke. “Looks like our little program at Shuttlecock is over. Vitus dead and all, seems like we can’t go on. That doesn’t make me happy.”

  “Then why did you kill Vitus?” Leta demanded. “With him gone, your nice little Shuttlecock Club skimming operation is caput.”

  “Wait a minute,” Herb Incavaglia said from his spot along the wall. “Why do we have to stop? I’m still in place. We can keep it going. Find a new president, cut him into the deal. It can still work, Rene, I know it can…”

  “Shut up, Herb,” Rene said sharply. “I said it’s over. One, it doesn’t work without Vitus’ bank. Two, too many people know about it. That makes it dangerous, especially for me. It’s over.”

  “I still don’t get it,” I said. “If losing Vitus meant losing the money from the Shuttlecock scam, why’d you kill him?”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him!” Rene said, his voice raised in frustration. “He was a freakin’ golden goose. He and Herb came up with all the projects that the club needed, his bank helped guarantee the financing, and Freddie here handled the construction part. It was perfect. I wish I knew who killed the guy. I’d take care of him myself.”

  Fred had pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He seemed to be sweating a lot.

  “What are you gonna do with them?” he asked Rene, motioned at us.

  Rene blew out a breath. “Tell you the truth, I don’t know,” he said.

  “You gotta get rid of them,” Freddie said. “Can’t let ‘em walk out of here. They’re goddam newspaper guys. Shit will really hit the fan, then. We’ll all go to jail, for Christ sakes. I can’t leave Rita alone.” His voice sounded pinched.

  Rene looked at Fred, nodding to himself.

  “It was you,” I said. I was looking at Freddie. “You killed him. I should have realized it before. Adams Construction…Fred Adamek. You were part of the program.”

  “What are you talking about?” Freddie protested, his face red and sweaty.

  “It all fits,” I said. “Jack,” I turned to my partner at the other end of the couch. “Remember that little argument about the bridge on the fourth hole?”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Fred and Vitus seemed to be disagreeing about something.”

  “I’ll bet that Vitus was going to hire another construction company to do the job,” I said. “He was like that. Liked to keep people on their toes, or just be mean for no good reason.”

  “But Freddie here was pissed,” Jackie chimed in. “Real pissed.”

  “Probably needed the money,” I continued. “I’ll bet having a sick wife at home on oxygen, nurses, doctors…costs a lot of bread. Freddie probably couldn’t afford not to get the bridge job.”

  “So when he found out Vitus was going to hire someone else, he freaked,” Leta said.

  “He was there that morning,” I said. “Came in early to hit balls, he said. Probably followed Vitus out to the cart barn, arguing his case. Vitus probably said something smartass, Vitus being Vitus.”

  “And Freddie gave him one in the kisser,” Jackie said.

  “He’s left-handed, remember? Vitus was punched in the right eye before he was strung up,” I said. “Had to be a lefty.”

  “Would take a strong guy to lift him onto the cart,” Jackie observed. “Like someone in construction.”

  “SHUT UP!” Fred Adamek shouted. “Just … shut…the…hell…up.” His voice trailed off to a near whisper. He slumped back against the wall, and covered his eyes with his handkerchief.

  The room was silent. Herb’s face had gone white and he stood as if frozen. Bennie sat in his chair, impassive as a rock. Rene had his arms crossed and his oversized lip was pursed in thought as he rocked slightly in his office chair.

  “I was going to make a hundred grand,” Fred said softly, pulling his hanky away. “Vitus wanted me to take less. Cheap bastard. He’s got plenty of money. But me? I owe Rita’s doctor fifty thou, and it’s gonna take another year for her to …” His voice caught. “When he told me he was giving the job to Dracut Contracting, he was laughing. He knew what that job meant to me. He was laughing.”

  Freddie looked at Leta. “I’m sorry, missus,” he said softly. “But he was one supersized son-of-a-bitch, and I’m glad he’s dead. I’d kill him again if I could.”

  “Bennie,” Rene said, his voice cutting and hard. He motioned with his head. Bennie stood up, put the chair aside and stood back to let Freddie walk out in front of him.

  “Rene,” Fred said, holding his hands out. “We go back a long way. And what’s Rita gonna do without me? C’mon, you gotta give me a break here.”

  Rene stared at Freddie for a moment. Cold, unblinking. Then he gave him a slight, sideways motion of the head. Freddie sighed in resignation. He stumbled towards the door, his head hanging.

  He was quick for
an old guy.

  As he passed Bennie, he suddenly swung his thick, powerful forearm into Bennie’s neck, slamming his head back against the wall. It sounded like someone had dropped a melon on the sidewalk. Bennie sagged and started to go down. With his other hand, Fred reached under Bennie’s jacket and came out with his gun. The whole thing took maybe two seconds.

  Fred wheeled and pointed the gun at Rene.

  “You don’t want to do that, friend,” Rene said, smiling. “Kill me, and there’s no place you can go. Except hell.”

  “I’m already there,” Fred said in a soft, resigned voice. “And you put me there.”

  There was a soft pfft sound. Freddie started, a surprised look crossed his face, then he slowly crumpled to the floor. Bennie’s gun fell out of his hand and skittered next to the desk.

  Leta gasped as a tall figure in a black trenchcoat came through the doorway, following a long gunmetal silencer attached to his gun.

  Rene, still sitting in his desk chair, looked at Freddie lying on his floor and then looked up at the tall man standing there. He had the collar of his trench coat turned up and wore a wide-brimmed hat like something Sam Spade might have, so we couldn’t see his face very well. I saw some olive-toned skin, and, below the hem of the coat, well-creased woolen slacks and finely polished black shoes.

  “Rufus,” Rene said. “Your timing is impeccable.”

  “Carmine sent me,” Rufus said in a hoarse whispery voice. “Wanted to make sure nothing happened to someone named Hacker.”

  Rene turned and looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “How’d you know that wasn’t me?” I asked, pointing to the dead Fred on the floor.

  “Been here a while,” the guy said.

  “Well, thanks, Rufus,” Rene said. “But I can take care of these people. I’m afraid they know a little too much. I’m sure Carmine will understand.”

  Rufus shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Carmine said Hacker and his friends are leaving. He wants you to come see him tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. sharp.” He looked at Herb Incavaglia who’s face had gone even whiter. I wondered where his blood was pooling. “You, too,” he said. Herb made a little moaning sound. Rene sat back in his chair and said nothing.

  “Right then,” Jackie said, getting to his feet. “I think our work here is done. Nice knowing ya, Rene.” He stepped over a groaning Bennie as he walked out.

  Leta and I followed Jackie down the hall and into the darkness of the parking lot outside. The temperature had dropped, and the chill cut straight to my bones. At least, I think it was the chill making me shiver. Rufus the enforcer followed us outside. He lit a cigarette. Leta went up to him.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He smiled enigmatically but said nothing. Jack had his car running, and Leta went over and climbed in the back seat.

  Rufus pulled out a cell phone, flipped it open and punched in a number. He waited, said “Yo,” listened and handed it to me.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Mister Hacker,” said a soft, Italian-accented voice. “Carmine Spoleto here. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said.

  “My daughter-in-law tells me that you never said anything to her about you and me.

  ” “That’s right,” I said. “Never thought it necessary to bring up.”

  “Quite right,” he said. “But I’m an old man, and I know things. I believe that you might have a problem with Mary Jane now.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” I said.

  “Do that,” he said. “I’m fond of that girl. And my granddaughter, too.”

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “Bene,” he said. “Buona notte.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jack peeled out of the parking lot and headed for the bright lights of downtown Lowell.

  “Well,” I said, “That was a fun weekend. Thanks, pard.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “Maybe we can do it again next year.”

  Leta was sniffling from the backseat. “One minute he was standing there, and the next, he was on the floor,” she said, voice wavering. “Poor Freddie. He came to our house for dinner just last week.”

  “He was also the one who killed your husband,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, I know,” she said. “And I hope he rots in hell for that, the rotten bastard. But it’s still all so sad. And what is his poor wife going to do now?”

  I glanced at Jackie, who shook his head. He knew better than to try to introduce logic into the midst of a woman’s emotional state.

  “We’ll go over to my house,” Jackie said. “Get a drink, regroup, decide what to do next.”

  “Damn,” I said. “Bennie still has my cell phone.”

  “Here,” he said, opening the compartment that separated the car seats. “Use mine.”

  I called Angela and told her we were still alive.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “Ummm, I’ll get back to you on that,” I said.

  “Hacker!” she screeched. “I gotta file a story in one hour. You cannot hold back on me now! What the hell happened?”

  “A bit of heck broke loose,” I confessed. “But we all still have all ten fingers and toes. We’re heading over to Jackie’s place.” I gave her the number. “Call me there in about 30 minutes.”

  I hung up. I wasn’t ready to talk to Mary Jane yet. But she might be worried. I sighed and decided to wait a bit.

  “Pards,” I said to Jackie, “We’ve got to decide how to handle this. We both have a story to get out, but we don’t want to get a visit from Bennie.”

  “Or Rufus,” Jackie nodded.

  “Exactly. “

  “But you’ve got to get Ted out of jail,” Leta piped in from the backseat. “I told you he didn’t do it. We should go tell the cops everything and get him out tonight.”

  I shook my head. “Not a great idea,” I said. “That would make us eyewitnesses to a Mob murder, and there’s three things that don’t last long: dogs that chase cars, pros putting for pars and eyewitnesses to Mob hits.” Jackie laughed.

  Leta said “huh?”

  “Slightly abridged Lee Trevino quote,” I said. “But it’s better for all of us to try and keep tonight’s fun and games to ourselves. “

  “So we all heard and saw Fred Adamek confess to killing Vitus and you guys can’t run that in the newspaper?” Leta said. “I can’t believe this!”

  “I didn’t say that,” I said. “We just have to figure out a way to run the story without involving any of us. After all, I was supposed to be in Endicott, New York this weekend covering a stupid golf tournament.”

  “Which is worse?” Jackie mused aloud. “Having the Mob trying to kill you or having your boss mad at you?”

  “Depends,” I said. “If he’s got coffee and doughnuts, Frankie’s usually in a passable mood.”

  We pulled into Jackie’s riverside home. The phone was ringing as Jackie let us in. He answered and held the receiver out to me.

  “Okay, whaddya got?” Angela demanded.

  “Here’s the deal,” I said. “We found out who the murderer was. It ties back into the financial scam at the Shuttlecock Club. But you can’t run the second part yet.”

  “How come?” Angela demanded, fire in her voice.

  “Because if you do, me and Jackie and Mrs. Papageorge here might have to enter the witness protection program,” I said. “If we make it that far.”

  “So?” she said.

  “I can feel the love,” I said, “But that’s the deal. Part one today, part two later.”

  “How much later?” she asked.

  I thought of Rene Lemere’s upcoming meeting with Carmine Spoleto. “Maybe as early as tomorrow,” I said. “In fact, I can give you some pretty good leads tomorrow that might get you the rest of the story.”

  I heard here drumming her pencil as she thought about it.

  �
��OK,” she said finally. “Tell me.”

  So I did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I spent the night at Jackie’s Sunday and slept like the dead. The house was empty when I awoke early Monday morning. It had turned cold and was threatening to rain. Jack and Leta were gone. A copy of my newspaper and an advance print-out of Jack’s were on the kitchen counter. The Boston Journal led with an exclusive, front-page story that reported “sources close to the investigation” had evidence that pointed the finger at one Frederick G. Adamek of Dracut, president of Adams Construction Co., as the possible killer of his sometime golf and business partner Vitus Papageorge. The motive? Anger over the loss of the upcoming bridge contract and his need for money to help his desperately ill wife. It noted his proximity on the morning of the crime.

  The Lowell police were quoted as saying the investigation was ongoing and that they would have no comment. However, the police spokesman said nothing to defend its arrest of Ted McDaggert, and Angela quoted police sources as saying Teddy might be released. Attempts to contact Mr. Adamek were unsuccessful, the story continued. A housekeeper and nurse at the Adamek residence said Mr. Adamek had not returned home that night and his whereabouts were unknown.

  Jackie left me a printout of the story that would appear in that afternoon’s Lowell Citizen. The headline read: “Golf Pro Released: Admits He Saw Body.” According to the account, McDaggert admitted he had wandered into the cart barn after Vitus has been strung up, saw his body dangling from the electrical cord, but did nothing about it. “He was already dead,” Ted said in the story. “I should have called for help, but I didn’t. I don’t know why.” The police said he could be charged with obstruction in a police matter, but had dropped all pending murder charges.

  The Lowell paper also said a search was continuing for Fred Adamek, but quoted sources saying that his sudden disappearance might be Mob related. It mentioned a close working relationship between Freddie’s Adams Construction and Rene Lemere. Phone calls to both Adams and Teamsters Foundations had gone unanswered, the paper said.

  I showered, packed up and drove back into Boston. Thanks to the usual traffic mess, I didn’t get into the office until around 10. Frank Donatello greeted me with a dirty look and a thick stack of copy to edit, mail to sort through and assignments to get done. “Vacation’s over, bub,” he grumped at me.